Forever
by Rhya Storm
Summary: SBRL Harry and Remus remember their fallen friend, and the love they both felt for him. Sirius, in turn, sends his love to his loved ones, giving them strength to carry on. Songfic.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This is my tribute to the immortal soul of Sirius Black. I hope that you all find it a worthy offering to the wonderful Animagus we all love and miss terribly. I've been meaning to do this for some time, actually.

Pairings here are Remus/Sirius. When I say Harry loves Sirius and vice-versa, I mean it as a father/son sort of thing.

Disclaimer: If I owned these people, Sirius would not be dead, and I would not be posting this. The song is "_Forever", _by Vertical Horizon. I don't own them, either - I can't write beautiful songs like this one. It seemed to fit, however. If you haven't heard this song, I highly reccomend you do - it's not a sad song, I don't think. You don't get the full impact just reading the lyrics.

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* * *

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_**Take these roses, all from me;**_

_**Let me live, let me be,**_

_**For a little while.**_

Remus Lupin stood in front of a newly-made grave, in the center of a lonely graveyard. Surrounded by the dead, the lone living person quietly knelt in front of the new grave, sadly lifting a gloved hand to trace the inscription:

_Sirius Black;_

_Beloved Godfather,_

_Loyal Friend,_

_And Loving Partner._

_We shall all miss him very much._

Three blood-red roses, their buds still not opened, lay at the foot of the headstone, leaves fluttering in the wind, which was surprisingly chill for the time of year. A solitary tear escaped Remus' eye to trail slowly down his face, gently tracing the outline of his gaunt cheek. Sixteen words … that was all that was left of the man once known as Sirius Black. Sixteen words and a bundle of bittersweet memories, either foggy from the haze of time or tainted by desperate, unhappy times. Not even a body lay underneath the werewolf's feet – it was an empty grave.

_**Let my eyes,**_

_**See everything and nothing in their time;**_

_**I do not mind.**_

Harry Potter lay curled up on his bed in his darkened bedroom in Number Four, Privet Drive. He stared unseeingly at his window, which was open, letting starlight and the light from the crescent moon spill onto his bed, painting patterns of light and shadow across his legs. He seemed to notice nothing, and yet was taking in everything; the whisper of the wind, the rustle of the oak tree leaves, the dancing shadows playing across his face.

Harry noticed everything, and everything he watched was accompanied by the thought – _Sirius will never see this again._ Harry wanted to observe everything – every last minute detail – as if trying to make up for all Sirius had missed during his life, and all that he was missing now. Deep down, though, Harry knew that not all the watching in the world could make up for the fact that Sirius was gone.

_**Who'd've guessed I'd learn,**_

_**To let the walls around me burn?**_

_**Light up the hillside.**_

Another tear escaped Remus' eye to join the first, as he remembered his lost friend; one of the few he'd ever trusted in his entire life, James, Lily, Dumbledore, and Peter being the others, although he sorely regretted ever trusting the last. Being a werewolf took its toll in more ways than one; Remus, early on in his life, had constructed protective walls around himself – around his heart – in order to protect himself.

Sirius had been the first to ever truly tear down the self-imposed walls surrounding Remus' core. It had been then that Remus had realized that Sirius was one of the extremely few people that he would ever trust with his heart; something he'd never thought he'd ever do. But he had removed the walls for Sirius, and, later, for James and Lily as well.

Now, everyone who had ever been entrusted with the guardianship of the werewolf's heart was gone. Every single one. It had been bad enough the first time, when James and Lily had died, when he'd thought Peter was dead, when Sirius had been imprisoned for a crime Remus found unthinkable. But now … now, after finding Sirius again, having him back once more … after entrusting him with his heart again, only for Sirius to leave him once more; this time for good.

Sirius was dead, and Remus felt as if his heart had died with him.

_**My words,**_

_**I ate them for so long and nothing changed;**_

_**It was just the same.**_

_Playing hero._ The words echoed noiselessly in Harry's head, goading him, taunting him, reminding him of his own role in Sirius' death. _You've got a kind of 'saving-people' thing, don't you? Always playing the hero … always having to save the day …_

Harry shook his head listlessly in a vain effort to drive them away – it wasn't his fault, he knew that, it would've happened another way sooner or later, it was inevitable with everything building up to a point; it was Bellatrix Lestrange's fault, he knew that, he _knew _that, in his mind, in his head … but not in his heart. His heart blamed himself for his godfather's death.

He punched the pillow, showing a sudden burst of energy as a feeling of anger shot through him – everyone he cared about, everyone who tried to care for him … they all died. They all left him. Even Sirius … even Sirius had left him. Had abandoned him.

Harry knew that wasn't true, but that was what it felt like – being abandoned by the last person on earth he would've thought would leave him.

_**And I don't know if you see me here;**_

_**But I can tell you your face is clear,**_

_**I will see you …**_

_**Forever!**_

Remus could still see Sirius in his mind's eye, as clearly as if the man were standing in front of him. His gaunt face, just beginning to regain the vestiges of his old good looks, thanks to constant meals from Molly; his long hair, tangled and knotted when he let it go, smooth and straight when he actually made an effort; and his eyes, his once-lively grey eyes that were still haunted from his time in Azkaban, but lit up whenever he was happy or enjoying himself.

_Whenever he was with me,_ Remus reminded himself, smiling slightly at the remembered image of Sirius laughing, his old zest for life returning, if only for a short while.

The smile vanished from the werewolf's face as he remembered that never again would Sirius' eyes shine like that again – never again would he laugh, never again would he smile contentedly, full of warmth, at Remus.

Never again.

And yet, somehow, Remus knew that he would carry his image of Sirius, perfectly crystal-clear, with him until the end of his days. He would always be able to see him.

_**Forever!**_

_**I will see you**_

_**Forever!**_

_**Forever!**_

Harry envisioned his godfather, paying especial attention to the details, sharpening the image meticulously until it was perfect, desperate to memorize Sirius' face, terrified that he might forget. He was absolutely terrified of forgetting Sirius; he never wanted to forget a single thing about his godfather, because he had had him for such a short amount of time. It really wasn't fair, to give him this image of a father, a brother, a _family_, only to cruelly wrench it away, much too soon.

He remembered his sunken eyes, still dark from the horrors of Azkaban – his wry smile when he was being sarcastic or ironic, his exuberant smile whenever he saw Harry, the way his eyes would crinkle at the edges when he grinned, and the way his face had looked when he was recalling the 'good old days' of the Marauders.

Harry remembered every last detail, every last aspect of his lost godfather, determined to carry the image with him forever.

_**Call me close once again,**_

_**Call me teacher, call me friend;**_

_**Just like the first time.**_

Remus sighed as he recalled his happy memories of Sirius, slightly fuzzy with nostalgia and with the passage of time, but clear where it counted. He remembered Sirius shouting his name whenever he entered the room, causing everyone to look around. He remembered helping Sirius study for Potions – the Animagus had always been hopeless in that subject. Sirius had jokingly called him "Professor Lupin" for two weeks before James finally told him to stuff it.

He remembered the first time Sirius had declared him his friend, on the train to Hogwarts first year. He remembered when he'd come up with the brilliant idea for James, Peter, and himself to become Animagi to help Remus out during full moons. The black-haired boy hadn't truly realized how much that had meant to Remus until the werewolf had gripped him in a bear-hug; highly unusual behavior, as Remus normally shunned voluntary contact and hardly ever instigated it.

He remembered every single first time there ever had been between the two of them – the first full moon, the first prank, the first Truth or Dare, the first trip to Hogsmeade, the first detention, the first collaboration against James …

The first hug. The first kiss. The first date.

Every first time, Remus remembered. Every single one.

_**Call my name,**_

_**It echoes all around me in this room;**_

_**It's all for you.**_

"_Harry!"_

Harry heard Sirius' joyful voice in his mind, as if he were standing next to him. He heard Sirius' barking laugh, reminding him so much of his Animagus form. He heard Sirius call his name, again and again, until the sound seemed to be echoing throughout the room, though Harry knew it couldn't be.

"Sirius," he whispered, the plea sounding forlorn even to his own ears. But he couldn't help it. He couldn't help but feel that, if he just called Sirius' name, he'd be there, coming to get Harry, to sweep him up into a bear-hug, to laugh with his laugh like a bark. Like he was just there, just around the corner, just waiting for Harry to call him back.

"Sirius," Harry called again. But no one answered save the wind.

_**I don't know if you hear me there,**_

_**But it's dark, so no one cares;**_

_**I will hear you …**_

_**Forever!**_

More tears joined the few that had already run down Remus' face. He didn't care anymore – here, it didn't matter. Here, the composed mask could drop, letting free his raw grief. The lone werewolf, the last Marauder. Alone once more.

"Sirius," he whispered into the wind. Hearing no answer but the sound of the wind blowing through the trees, he called again, shouting this time. "Sirius!"

No one answered. No one was awake at this hour – no one could hear the man calling for a dead man in the graveyard, and no one cared. "Sweet Merlin, I miss you," Remus said brokenly, his words being carried away by the wind. "I miss you so goddamn much, Sirius."

He wondered if, wherever Sirius was, he could hear Remus' words, carried to him by a benign gust of wind. Remus prayed to whatever deity was listening that Sirius could catch the werewolf's whispered words. "I love you," he whispered, voice cracking, words lost in the whisper of the wind. "I always will. Merlin's beard, Sirius, I love you."

He imagined he could hear Sirius' voice, carried by the wind, whisper in his ear, "_I love you too, Moony._" Remus would always hear that.

_**Forever!**_

_**I will hear you**_

_**Forever!**_

_**Forever!**_

"Sirius!" Harry shouted into the night. For the briefest moment, he thought he heard his godfather call back; "_Harry!_"

Harry leaned out of his window, straining to catch his godfather's voice – but it was only the wind.

"I miss you," Harry sighed sadly, hoping a friendly breeze would carry the words to somewhere that Sirius could here them. "So bloody much, Sirius."

The wind whispered in Harry's ear, but that was all it was – the wind.

_**I wanted you to be everything to me;**_

_**Now I've got to learn to carry on.**_

Sirius had been everything to Remus since he'd returned; his reason for living, his steady anchor, his cornerstone. Remus had given Sirius his life, to mend and to hold together. Now, that anchor, that cornerstone was gone, and Remus could feel his life beginning to crumble into pieces at his feet.

He could watch his life be destroyed by grief … watch the world go by until he died of loneliness and self-neglect. But he knew he couldn't. Sirius would be furious with him if he gave up now. Besides … Harry needed him. Remus was all Harry had left, and, hurt though he might, Remus could not allow Harry to be abandoned for a third time.

Remus would simply have to find out how to carry on, in a world where everyone he'd ever loved was gone. He didn't know if there was a way – but if there was one, he would find it. For Sirius and Harry's sakes, he would find it.

_**I know I cannot hide this emptiness inside,**_

_**But nothing is the same since you've gone.**_

Harry felt a cold pit in his stomach, an empty hole in his heart, where Sirius used to be. The hollowness seemed to echo inside of him, reminding him of all he had lost. There was no way he'd be able to carry on like before … like nothing had happened.

Because something world-shattering had happened. Nothing was the same anymore. Nothing. Harry knew it.

But he also knew that he had things to live for. Hermione. Ron, and the Weasley family. Professor Lupin, who, he felt certain, was just as devastated by Sirius' death as he was.

Hogwarts. Dumbledore, and the war with Voldemort. Sirius had sacrificed himself so Harry could live. So had his parents. Harry _had _to carry on, if only so their deaths would not be pointless. Harry wouldn't be able to bear that.

_**Send me letters from above;**_

_**Send me strength, send me love,**_

_**Such sweet love.**_

Remus took a long, shaky breath, wishing he knew how Sirius was doing … up there, wherever he was. _Probably getting drunk with James and scolded by Lily_, he thought, chuckling slightly at the affectionate image.

Wherever Sirius was, however, the werewolf knew that he was sending Remus his love; love, and strength to carry on … enough, Remus hoped, to get him through the long, empty years he could see ahead.

He stood there, the wind swirling gently around him, basking in the sensation of Sirius' love, sent down from … from above, from Heaven, whatever it was called. Remus didn't truly know where it came from – just that it was there, as real as anything.

Yes. He would carry on.

_**Sing me songs,**_

_**That echo in my head and in my heart;**_

_**That's where you are.**_

Harry wished desperately he could see Sirius just once more – to hear him laugh, to hear him talk, hear him sing "God Rest Ye Merrye Hippogriffes", to feel his love, just once more. Just once more.

But somehow, Harry felt that, wherever he was, Sirius was sending his love. His laughter, his songs, and his love, to live in Harry's heart forever.

Harry took Sirius – his memories, his feelings, and his love for him – and tucked them away in a safe corner of his heart, where they would remain for all time, never to fade away. Never to die.

_**And I don't know if you feel me here;**_

_**But I can tell you one thing that's clear,**_

_**I will feel you …**_

"Goodbye, Sirius," two people whispered into the night, sending their love to a lost one.

_**Forever!**_

_**Forever!**_

_**I will feel you**_

_**Forever!**_

_**Forever!**_

_**I will hear you**_

_**Forever!**_

_**Forever!**_

_**I will see you**_

_**Forever!**_

_**Forever!**_

In a quiet neighborhood, a young boy curled up into his bed and, for the first time in a long time, fell into a peaceful, untroubled sleep.

In a quiet, lonely graveyard, a prematurely-aging man slowly walked away from a new gravestone, letting the wind gently dry the teardrops from his face.

At the bottom of a single, granite headstone, three slender rosebuds quivered in the breeze, shedding small petals like teardrops to fall like drops of blood on the base of the grave, illuminated in the light of the sickle moon and the light of a bright star, known to some as the Dog Star, shining through the clouds.

_**Take these roses, all from me,**_

_**Let me live, let me be.**_

_-Fin. Ende.конец. The End. But is it ever, really?-_

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A/N: I hope this touched you as much as it touches me ... I wound up crying when I finished this, but I was happy, and it was really confusing, but I hope you all like it.

The next chapter is the story _without _the song lyrics, if you wish to read it without them.

Please, if this story touched you, review so I know it did. I'd be honored to know I touched the hearts of Sirius lovers such as myself.


	2. Chapter 2

Remus Lupin stood in front of a newly-made grave, in the center of a lonely graveyard. Surrounded by the dead, the lone living person quietly knelt in front of the new grave, sadly lifting a gloved hand to trace the inscription:

_Sirius Black;_

_Beloved Godfather,_

_Loyal Friend,_

_And Loving Partner._

_We shall all miss him very much._

Three blood-red roses, their buds still not opened, lay at the foot of the headstone, leaves fluttering in the wind, which was surprisingly chill for the time of year. A solitary tear escaped Remus' eye to trail slowly down his face, gently tracing the outline of his gaunt cheek. Sixteen words … that was all that was left of the man once known as Sirius Black. Sixteen words and a bundle of bittersweet memories, either foggy from the haze of time or tainted by desperate, unhappy times. Not even a body lay underneath the werewolf's feet – it was an empty grave.

Harry Potter lay curled up on his bed in his darkened bedroom in Number Four, Privet Drive. He stared unseeingly at his window, which was open, letting starlight and the light from the crescent moon spill onto his bed, painting patterns of light and shadow across his legs. He seemed to notice nothing, and yet was taking in everything; the whisper of the wind, the rustle of the oak tree leaves, the dancing shadows playing across his face.

Harry noticed everything, and everything he watched was accompanied by the thought – _Sirius will never see this again._ Harry wanted to observe everything – every last minute detail – as if trying to make up for all Sirius had missed during his life, and all that he was missing now. Deep down, though, Harry knew that not all the watching in the world could make up for the fact that Sirius was gone.

Another tear escaped Remus' eye to join the first, as he remembered his lost friend; one of the few he'd ever trusted in his entire life, James, Lily, Dumbledore, and Peter being the others, although he sorely regretted ever trusting the last. Being a werewolf took its toll in more ways than one; Remus, early on in his life, had constructed protective walls around himself – around his heart – in order to protect himself.

Sirius had been the first to ever truly tear down the self-imposed walls surrounding Remus' core. It had been then that Remus had realized that Sirius was one of the extremely few people that he would ever trust with his heart; something he'd never thought he'd ever do. But he had removed the walls for Sirius, and, later, for James and Lily as well.

Now, everyone who had ever been entrusted with the guardianship of the werewolf's heart was gone. Every single one. It had been bad enough the first time, when James and Lily had died, when he'd thought Peter was dead, when Sirius had been imprisoned for a crime Remus found unthinkable. But now … now, after finding Sirius again, having him back once more … after entrusting him with his heart again, only for Sirius to leave him once more; this time for good.

Sirius was dead, and Remus felt as if his heart had died with him.

_Playing hero._ The words echoed noiselessly in Harry's head, goading him, taunting him, reminding him of his own role in Sirius' death. _You've got a kind of 'saving-people' thing, don't you? Always playing the hero … always having to save the day …_

Harry shook his head listlessly in a vain effort to drive them away – it wasn't his fault, he knew that, it would've happened another way sooner or later, it was inevitable with everything building up to a point; it was Bellatrix Lestrange's fault, he knew that, he _knew _that, in his mind, in his head … but not in his heart. His heart blamed himself for his godfather's death.

He punched the pillow, showing a sudden burst of energy as a feeling of anger shot through him – everyone he cared about, everyone who tried to care for him … they all died. They all left him. Even Sirius … even Sirius had left him. Had abandoned him.

Harry knew that wasn't true, but that was what it felt like – being abandoned by the last person on earth he would've thought would leave him.

Remus could still see Sirius in his mind's eye, as clearly as if the man were standing in front of him. His gaunt face, just beginning to regain the vestiges of his old good looks, thanks to constant meals from Molly; his long hair, tangled and knotted when he let it go, smooth and straight when he actually made an effort; and his eyes, his once-lively grey eyes that were still haunted from his time in Azkaban, but lit up whenever he was happy or enjoying himself.

_Whenever he was with me,_ Remus reminded himself, smiling slightly at the remembered image of Sirius laughing, his old zest for life returning, if only for a short while.

The smile vanished from the werewolf's face as he remembered that never again would Sirius' eyes shine like that again – never again would he laugh, never again would he smile contentedly, full of warmth, at Remus.

Never again.

And yet, somehow, Remus knew that he would carry his image of Sirius, perfectly crystal-clear, with him until the end of his days. He would always be able to see him.

Harry envisioned his godfather, paying especial attention to the details, sharpening the image meticulously until it was perfect, desperate to memorize Sirius' face, terrified that he might forget. He was absolutely terrified of forgetting Sirius; he never wanted to forget a single thing about his godfather, because he had had him for such a short amount of time. It really wasn't fair, to give him this image of a father, a brother, a _family_, only to cruelly wrench it away, much too soon.

He remembered his sunken eyes, still dark from the horrors of Azkaban – his wry smile when he was being sarcastic or ironic, his exuberant smile whenever he saw Harry, the way his eyes would crinkle at the edges when he grinned, and the way his face had looked when he was recalling the 'good old days' of the Marauders.

Harry remembered every last detail, every last aspect of his lost godfather, determined to carry the image with him forever.

Remus sighed as he recalled his happy memories of Sirius, slightly fuzzy with nostalgia and with the passage of time, but clear where it counted. He remembered Sirius shouting his name whenever he entered the room, causing everyone to look around. He remembered helping Sirius study for Potions – the Animagus had always been hopeless in that subject. Sirius had jokingly called him "Professor Lupin" for two weeks before James finally told him to stuff it.

He remembered the first time Sirius had declared him his friend, on the train to Hogwarts first year. He remembered when he'd come up with the brilliant idea for James, Peter, and himself to become Animagi to help Remus out during full moons. The black-haired boy hadn't truly realized how much that had meant to Remus until the werewolf had gripped him in a bear-hug; highly unusual behavior, as Remus normally shunned voluntary contact and hardly ever instigated it.

He remembered every single first time there ever had been between the two of them – the first full moon, the first prank, the first Truth or Dare, the first trip to Hogsmeade, the first detention, the first collaboration against James …

The first hug. The first kiss. The first date.

Every first time, Remus remembered. Every single one.

"_Harry!"_

Harry heard Sirius' joyful voice in his mind, as if he were standing next to him. He heard Sirius' barking laugh, reminding him so much of his Animagus form. He heard Sirius call his name, again and again, until the sound seemed to be echoing throughout the room, though Harry knew it couldn't be.

"Sirius," he whispered, the plea sounding forlorn even to his own ears. But he couldn't help it. He couldn't help but feel that, if he just called Sirius' name, he'd be there, coming to get Harry, to sweep him up into a bear-hug, to laugh with his laugh like a bark. Like he was just there, just around the corner, just waiting for Harry to call him back.

"Sirius," Harry called again. But no one answered save the wind.

More tears joined the few that had already run down Remus' face. He didn't care anymore – here, it didn't matter. Here, the composed mask could drop, letting free his raw grief. The lone werewolf, the last Marauder. Alone once more.

"Sirius," he whispered into the wind. Hearing no answer but the sound of the wind blowing through the trees, he called again, shouting this time. "Sirius!"

No one answered. No one was awake at this hour – no one could hear the man calling for a dead man in the graveyard, and no one cared. "Sweet Merlin, I miss you," Remus said brokenly, his words being carried away by the wind. "I miss you so goddamn much, Sirius."

He wondered if, wherever Sirius was, he could hear Remus' words, carried to him by a benign gust of wind. Remus prayed to whatever deity was listening that Sirius could catch the werewolf's whispered words. "I love you," he whispered, voice cracking, words lost in the whisper of the wind. "I always will. Merlin's beard, Sirius, I love you."

He imagined he could hear Sirius' voice, carried by the wind, whisper in his ear, "_I love you too, Moony._" Remus would always hear that.

"Sirius!" Harry shouted into the night. For the briefest moment, he thought he heard his godfather call back; "_Harry!_"

Harry leaned out of his window, straining to catch his godfather's voice – but it was only the wind.

"I miss you," Harry sighed sadly, hoping a friendly breeze would carry the words to somewhere that Sirius could here them. "So bloody much, Sirius."

The wind whispered in Harry's ear, but that was all it was – the wind.

Sirius had been everything to Remus since he'd returned; his reason for living, his steady anchor, his cornerstone. Remus had given Sirius his life, to mend and to hold together. Now, that anchor, that cornerstone was gone, and Remus could feel his life beginning to crumble into pieces at his feet.

He could watch his life be destroyed by grief … watch the world go by until he died of loneliness and self-neglect. But he knew he couldn't. Sirius would be furious with him if he gave up now. Besides … Harry needed him. Remus was all Harry had left, and, hurt though he might, Remus could not allow Harry to be abandoned for a third time.

Remus would simply have to find out how to carry on, in a world where everyone he'd ever loved was gone. He didn't know if there was a way – but if there was one, he would find it. For Sirius and Harry's sakes, he would find it.

Harry felt a cold pit in his stomach, an empty hole in his heart, where Sirius used to be. The hollowness seemed to echo inside of him, reminding him of all he had lost. There was no way he'd be able to carry on like before … like nothing had happened.

Because something world-shattering had happened. Nothing was the same anymore. Nothing. Harry knew it.

But he also knew that he had things to live for. Hermione. Ron, and the Weasley family. Professor Lupin, who, he felt certain, was just as devastated by Sirius' death as he was.

Hogwarts. Dumbledore, and the war with Voldemort. Sirius had sacrificed himself so Harry could live. So had his parents. Harry _had _to carry on, if only so their deaths would not be pointless. Harry wouldn't be able to bear that.

Remus took a long, shaky breath, wishing he knew how Sirius was doing … up there, wherever he was. _Probably getting drunk with James and scolded by Lily_, he thought, chuckling slightly at the affectionate image.

Wherever Sirius was, however, the werewolf knew that he was sending Remus his love; love, and strength to carry on … enough, Remus hoped, to get him through the long, empty years he could see ahead.

He stood there, the wind swirling gently around him, basking in the sensation of Sirius' love, sent down from … from above, from Heaven, whatever it was called. Remus didn't truly know where it came from – just that it was there, as real as anything.

Yes. He would carry on.

Harry wished desperately he could see Sirius just once more – to hear him laugh, to hear him talk, hear him sing "God Rest Ye Merrye Hippogriffes", to feel his love, just once more. Just once more.

But somehow, Harry felt that, wherever he was, Sirius was sending his love. His laughter, his songs, and his love, to live in Harry's heart forever.

Harry took Sirius – his memories, his feelings, and his love for him – and tucked them away in a safe corner of his heart, where they would remain for all time, never to fade away. Never to die.

"Goodbye, Sirius," two people whispered into the night, sending their love to a lost one.

In a quiet neighborhood, a young boy curled up into his bed and, for the first time in a ong time, fell into a peaceful, untroubled sleep.

In a quiet, lonely graveyard, a prematurely-aging man slowly walked away from a new gravestone, letting the wind gently dry the teardrops from his face.

At the bottom of a single, granite headstone, three slender rosebuds quivered in the breeze, shedding small petals like teardrops to fall like drops of blood on the base of the grave, illuminated in the light of the sickle moon and the light of a bright star, known to some as the Dog Star, shining through the clouds.

_-Fin. Ende. конец. The End. But is it ever, really?-_


End file.
